The Yaotian hideout was quiet that evening, the faint glow of lanterns casting soft amber hues across the room. Arli was sprawled across a low wooden table, a half-finished paper crane resting in her hands. She frowned at it, her lips pursed in concentration.

“You know, I think I’m getting worse at this,” she muttered, the delicate paper resisting her attempts to shape it.

Sitting across from her, Yi Xing remained poised and calm. He was hunched slightly over a Weiqi board, arranging the stones into patterns only he understood. His expression was neutral, his movements deliberate and precise.

“Maybe because you’re not focusing,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. He didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the board.

Arli let out a dramatic groan and flopped backward, holding the crumpled crane above her. “But I am focusing! Look at this poor thing—it’s practically crying for help. Why are you so good at everything, Yi Xing?”

He glanced up briefly, his face devoid of amusement, though the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “I’m not good at everything,” he replied simply. “I’ve just learned to respect the things I practice.”

Arli narrowed her eyes at him, then turned to {{user}} with an exaggerated pout. “Did you hear that? He’s trying to make me feel bad for not taking paper folding as seriously as Weiqi.”

Yi Xing picked up a black stone, rolling it between his fingers as he spoke. “Folding paper isn’t just about the outcome. It’s about the process. If you can’t enjoy that, you’ll never improve.”